


The Fall

by b000merang



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Fist Fights, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b000merang/pseuds/b000merang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What else can there be to talk about?” asked Tom. </p><p>“Well, there is the matter of your treatment of Daisy,” Gatsby said.</p><p> <br/>The trip to New York that hot summer day turns violent. An AU of what would have happened if Daisy left with Jordan instead of Gatsby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> It begins during chapter 7 in the hotel room in New York when Gatsby tried to get Daisy to leave Tom. It's basically an AU of what could have happened if Daisy had left with Jordan instead of Gatsby. I wrote this trying to make the ending happier but didn't quite get there. Oh well. 
> 
> Everything Italicized at the beginning are Fitzgerald's words during chapter 7.

_"PLEASE, Tom! I can't stand this any more."_

_Her frightened eyes told that whatever intentions, whatever courage she had had, were definitely gone._

_"You two start on home, Daisy," said Tom. "In Mr. Gatsby's car."_

_She looked at Tom, alarmed now, but he insisted with magnanimous scorn._

_"Go on. He won't annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over."_

“I was hoping that I’d stay a little longer, actually,” said Gatsby. “Jordan, why don’t you accompany her? I think she’d very much appreciate it.”

Jordan glanced between Gatsby and Tom’s faces, then without a word the two women gathered their things and walked out the door. The silence lingered after they had left. I stared out the window and watched them drive away in Gatsby’s car. After a moment, Tom stood up, making his way in front of Gatsby’s chair until he was towering over him.

“What else can there be to talk about?” asked Tom. “It’s over.”

“Well, there is the matter of your treatment of Daisy,” Gatsby said.

“I thought we already established that you and Daisy are never gonna happen,” Tom said.

“Yes, well,” Gatsby started, looking down at his hands before standing up to look Tom in the eye. “Daisy deserves the best, and you are not the best.”

“Excuse me?” Tom said, taking a step towards Gatsby until they were inches apart. I could see the veins in his fists bulging. “If you have something to say, spit it out.”

“Leave Daisy. You don’t deserve her.”

“Like you have the right to tell me that. My relationship with Daisy is my Goddamn business, and if you don’t like it you can shove it.”

“You know, I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you. Leave Daisy.”

“Or what?”

“Or im going to have to convince you.” Gatsby said smoothly, rolling up his sleeves. “Did I ever mention I was in the war?”

“You think you’re big-shot war story’s gonna scare me away? Even if you were ever in the war, you’re nothing now,” growled Tom, rolling up his sleeves as well.

“H-hey now, fellas,” I said. “Let’s not--”

“I’ll give you one chance, Gatsby.” Tom said, cracking his knuckles. “Back down.”

“Not gonna happen. Old sport.”

“DON’T CALL ME OLD SPORT,” Tom screamed, throwing his fist into Gatsby’s face. Gatsby stumbled back into his chair, tipping it backwards with him. Before Gatsby could get up, Tom was already coming around next to him.

“Tom!” I said, trying to grab his arm. He yanked his arm from my grasp without even looking in my direction. Gatsby had gotten up and was facing him with his fists up.

“Whoa! Whoa, Gatsby, come on--” I said, stepping in between the two men. Gatsby pushed me to the side.

“Not now, Nick,” he said, eyes trained on Tom.

Tom threw a punch, but Gatsby parried it to the side, using the momentum to make him stumble past him. Tom ran into the middle table, breaking the table, shot glasses, and bottle of whiskey. He pushed himself back up and barreled into Gatsby. He pushed Gatsby’s punch away and threw an upper-cut into his gut. Gatsby doubled over with a groan. I tried to step between them again, about to say something when Tom’s fist hits my jaw, knocking me to the floor.

Dazed, I slowly put a hand up to my jaw. That had been the first time I had ever been punched in the face. I tried to move it around. My head had been hit on the fall, I realized. I watched the ceiling, because it seemed like the only thing to do at the time. I stayed looking up at the ceiling for a few minutes, before I remembered that there was still a fight going on. I sat up. Gatsby was closing in on Tom, who now sported a back-eye.

Despite being pinned in front of the window, he looked like he was still holding his own. He tried punching Gatsby in the face over and over, only succeeded a couple times while Gatsby blocked him. He grabbed Tom’s arm and kneed him in the crotch. Tom yelled and cursed, hunching over. By the time Tom had straightened up a little, Gatsby’s fist was already connecting with his chest. I watched as his balance failed him, and with wide eyes he started tilting back in what felt like slow motion. His arms were already out the window when he started pinwheeling them.

The look of terror on his face has stuck with me to this day. It’s the kind you don’t see very often, the kind when a man knows he’s gonna die.

Then his legs were up and out the window. I was stumbling up when he hit the sidewalk below. I tried to go to the window to look and see what condition Tom was in, but an arm stopped me.

Gatsby hadn’t moved closer; in fact, he had taken a few steps back. When I looked over, I somehow expected him to have that look on his face again, the one that made him look like he killed a man, but it wasn’t there. It was as white and blank as a sheet.

“We can’t be seen,” was the first thing he said.

“What?”

“Witnesses. We can’t be seen.”

“What if he’s alive, though?”

“We’re on the fifth story. No one survives that.”

“O-oh. Right.”

We backed away. I tried to think of what we should do, but my mind was utterly blank. It seemed like I had lost the ability to think at all, actually. We stared at the window in silence. I could hear someone yell something down on the street, but couldn’t make out the words.

“We need a story,” Gatsby said, licking his lips nervously. “We had a fight. We can’t deny that, there’s too much evidence. We had a fight about Daisy, and you dragged me into the hall to try to get us to calm down. Tom fell out while we were in the hall.”

He turned to me. He took me by the shoulders, making me face him. “You with me, old sport?” Panic had started to seep into his face and his voice. I nodded. “We’re gonna tell that story. Agreed?” he asked.

“Agreed,” I replied faintly.

“We need to go down there. You need to put up your poker face until we get the street. Got it? We’ll be fine.” Gatsby said. I felt like he was saying it for himself as much as me.

I nodded, and we were walking out of the apartment. I tried to make myself walk naturally, but all I could manage was stiff. I felt like I wasn’t really walking, like one of those out of body experiences people have. I’d heard of it, but I had never experienced it. I had a vague thought that today was a day of firsts. I wished it wasn’t.

We were on the first floor, and I could see through the doors that there was a crowd forming just to the side of the door. Gatsby led me through the doors and into their midst, asking people what had happened and telling them he knew the bloody heap on the ground. I could only silently look down, not meeting the dead man’s gaze, but staring at the hand next to my shoe. The blood that was pooling under him slowly grew to encompass it, and I didn’t move when it started to slip under my toes.

“You ok?” someone next to me asked.

“What?”

“Are you ok?” they repeated.

“No.... I just remembered today’s my birthday.”

I finally brought myself to look at Tom’s face. His eyes were wide and staring, like the eyes of God.


End file.
